The Cleverness of Euphemia
by Cal reflector
Summary: No one expected great things from her, not even him, until it was too late: A one-shot on how Lelouch and Euphie’s life may have turned out had Marianne’s death not separated them.


They relaxed upon a lush green knoll, the shade and sway of the old walnut tree overhead a comfort in the warm afternoon lull. To the side were a large picnic basket and a quarter bottle of dark wine, and Euphemia—filled with lunch and a bit drowsy from the Cabernet—laid back upon the checkered blanket and stretched her arms. Curling and uncurling her toes, she peered at the sky through the leaves above with heavy-lidded eyes.

"It is as if the world was just the two of us."

Lelouch smiled at his half-sister's idle musing. He gazed upon the shimmering surface of the lake, one of three which ran through the sprawling royal parklands which he had reserved for the day. "We should bring Nunally next time."

A breeze rippled the surface; the prince felt a hand rest against his arm and looked down to see her endearing eyes locked with his in silent entreaty. "That's not what I meant."

He tilted his head, not comprehending; Lelouch Vi Britannia, the renown prince of Britannia, one of the empire's brightest stars, and yet he knew nothing of how a girl—_woman's—_mind worked. A moment later the earnestness faded from Euphemia's expression and the princess returned to a mirthful mood. "You promised that I'd have you all to myself today."

He picked up a precious pink tendril and wound it around his finger. "A prince always keeps his word."

Euphemia smiled; she had never been the clever one. No, all the cleverness in the family had cumulated in Lelouch and Schneizel. Euphemia was the pretty one, the one who found chicks fallen out of their nests and begged her brothers to put them back. In a society where empathy for the weak was at best paid lip service as a frivolous virtue next to strength and valor, Euphemia was not expected to amount to much, if anything at all.

Only one person recognized the princess' potential: Marianne, Lelouch's mother. The commoner queen saw enough of the girl to perceive a stubborn—if gentle—spirit which often prevailed over her brilliant son's will. One afternoon during hide and seek, as Lelouch took cover behind the curtains of Marianne's parlor, the queen had remarked to him that if he were not careful the princess would catch him someday. Lelouch, all of age ten, had scoffed at the notion:

"_But she never wins any of our games."_

"_Maybe not the ones now, but there will be new games in the future."_

And time showed that the wise queen had been correct, for in the end it was Euphemia, whom no one had expected much from, who had captured the grand prize—Lelouch's heart—in the grandest game of them all.

Beneath them, a number of swans and blue-brown ducks floated idly by on the glittering creek. The princess followed a pair of the graceful white birds who traveled closely, side by side. "Lelouch."

"Yes?"

"Did you know that swans mate for life?"

He lifted his brows slightly. "Of course, why do you ask?"

She sighed; after all these years, he has still not learned to catch on.

_But there will be plenty of time to teach him._

In the tender stillness of the moment, Euphemia's hand reached out and easily plucked the silver neckerchief from his collar, and before Lelouch could react she was on her feet and six steps away with a ballerina's agility. She peeked over her shoulder and he caught the gleam in her eye, and the two began the game which they've started playing since childhood, which changed as they grew older and more aware of each other. Away from the palace, away from the consultation of chamberlains and matrons and politics and propriety, they gloried in the chase as they used to on the rolling lawns of his mother's garden. Euphemia bound like a doe across the slippery green blades, her bare feet stained with grass and utterly uncaring as she lifted her voluminous skirt just enough to allow her to skip.

When he finally caught her he brought her down and rolled her to the ground (cradling her with his lanky frame until they've come to rest) amidst a fit of giggles and laughter. He knew she was ticklish and where, and she knew she was at his mercy now and quickly tossed the silken square away. "There, there it is!"

"A brave attempt, but I have what I want."

Her eyes widened, and then drifted close on their own accord as he reverently touched her rosy cheek with the back of his hand. He kissed her on the lips, then again, and again, each one slower and deeper and sweeter than the last. When he opened his eyes he found her smiling like the secret victor as she embraced the comfortable weight of him and caressed his sun-warmed back along the spine.

"How curious, because I have what I want also."

He remembered what he had once remarked to his mother years ago, that he could never win against Euphie, and as he placed his lips upon the pulse in her neck and listened to the joyous heartbeat in her breast, he remembered the reason why: because she changed the rules of their game, so that when she won so did he.

_The End_


End file.
